Please Come Home For Christmas
by Lorelai Grint
Summary: How was Christmas for Ron, being apart from Harry and Hermione in particular, after leaving them alone on the Horcrux hunt? How was it really at Shell Cottage? DH missing moment
1. Christmas Eve

**The Author recommends****: **Read this story while listening to "Please Come Home For Christmas", by Bon Jovi

**Please Come Home For Christmas**

**by Lorelai Grint**

Chapter 1: Christmas Eve

It was no different than any other night since he had left Harry and Hermione. Bill would always try to get him out of his room in the Shell Cottage - even Fleur had tried it. However kinder or harsher either had been, neither of them had ever succeeded. Every night since he had reached their doorstep soaking wet and bloodshot eyes, Ron would sit by the window of the guest room of the Shell Cottage gazing into the ocean, barely a word coming out of his mouth regardless Bill and Fleur's efforts.

So it was like every other night. Only it wasn't. That night was Christmas night, as the Christmas Carols on the radio reminded Ron insistently. It was Christmas Eve and, for the first time in years, he was not with Harry or Hermione. The feeling of uncertainty about their well-being, the guilt that had filled him up from the moment he had Disapparated only seemed to grow faster and stronger during the festivities.

What hurt him was not that he would be spending Christmas alone – being around people, even if it was his brother Bill, had become way more painful than solitude. Ever since he had left the tent, he had learnt to enjoy being alone – or, at least, he was in such a masochist state that he would willingly feast on his own sorrow. The thing that truly hurt him the most was that neither Harry nor Hermione would be spending Christmas with him.

Bill and Fleur insisted a thousand times that Ron would join all the Weasleys for Christmas at the Burrow. Once Ron refused categorically to go, Bill understood he was fighting a lost cause and gave in, deciding on spending Christmas at Shell Cottage with both his wife and Ron, so that the latter would not spend Christmas alone. Ron had joined Bill and Fleur for dinner, on which Fleur had clearly put a tremendous effort for it was remarkably good. Not as good as Mrs Weasley, Ron's stomach reminded him, but still it was a delightful Christmas dinner. The house was quite beautiful, with a Christmas tree in the middle of the living room, shining its light through the entire room. Ron had passed on the Christmas pudding and once Bill and Fleur had also finished eating, he wished them a Merry Christmas, said goodnight and used a headache as a more than feeble excuse to go to his bedroom. All the Christmas reminders were only causing him more pain and making Harry and Hermione's images clearer and clearer.

Initially, Bill had even made up a billion excuses for Ron to use in front of their family were they to go to the Burrow, thinking that was the main reason for Ron's refusal. Only it was not. Surely showing up without Harry and Hermione had weighed in Ron's decision: he already knew he was a coward; he did not need anyone to shove it in his face. Nevertheless, Ron knew he could manage that - and it would not top the joy and excitement of actually seeing all of his family again after all those months. The reason why Ron could not bear the thought of returning to the Burrow was a different one: he had lived there too many good moments with both Harry and Hermione - especially through the last summer when it came to Hermione. Remembering their dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding, the thought of Hermione alone with Harry pinched his heart hard once again.

He could not feel the anger he had felt towards them while wearing the locket anymore. Now he only felt defeated and as though all he could do was force himself to cope with the situation, perhaps even find a way to redeem himself from what he had done to both Harry and Hermione by being the greater supporter of their relationship – which probably (and he was very afraid of this certainty) had already taken place.

A single tear escaped through his freckled cheek as "Silent Night" echoed from the radio. At that moment, Ron felt as though he had lost everything he loved. All his fears and insecurities rose: he was nothing in comparison with his brothers and sister, he would never have the only girl he had ever loved due to his foolishness alone. He had pushed Hermione away over and over again through the years and she would always come back; only when he had decided to take a first step towards where he really wanted to be with her, it was just too late. And on top of it all, he had betrayed his best friend, leaving him alone when he needed him the most by his side. The feeling of most utter loneliness filled his heart – and the caroling on the radio praising love, family and friendship was not helping either.

In a brisk movement, Ron pulled out his wand, turned off the radio, grabbed the Deluminator and clicked it once. Then, in the soundless darkness of Christmas night, Ron got undressed and went to bed. He rested his head on the pillow, gazing blankly into the frosty window. Small snowflakes were falling off the sky. Ron only wished that Hermione was there to make him feel like everything would be OK. All he wanted for Christmas was to be with her and that he knew he could not achieve. He stayed still on his bed like this for an hour or two, eventually succumbing to exhaustion and finally falling asleep.


	2. Christmas Day

**Please Come Home For Christmas**

**by Lorelai Grint**

Chapter 2: Christmas Day

The strong wind blowing outside woke Ron up early on Christmas Day. He felt exhausted: adding to the small hours of actual sleep, his mind had not given him any rest either. Despite the fact that the first thing that came to his mind when remembering his dream was Christmas pudding, he had not been dreaming about food. Well, at least not _only_ about food.

Opening his eyes, he noticed it was still dark outside; then the rest of his dream came to his mind: it was some alternative version of his Fourth Year Yule Ball. A smile popped onto his lips: there was no Krum, it was him, Ron, who was Hermione's date and she was more beautiful than ever. Oh, yes, and his robes were very refined and... well, _manly_. He giggled remembering the actual Ball. It was not a giggle without some bitterness to it, but it was a giggle after all.

How could he have been so stupid? Not only about Hermione, not only about those past times, but about everything else as well. Hermione was right, Ron concluded, he was indeed a spoiled brat. Back then he had never realised how lucky he was – in particular, how lucky they all were before the Dark Lord had risen again. Nowadays an event like the Yule Ball and the Triwizard Tournament would be a ridiculous idea to even consider. There was no way that it could be done with minimum security assuredness. This last drifting thought pinched him in his chest, bringing back the tremendous fear that had been filling him ever since he had left. He was deeply concerned about Harry and Hermione; if he could go back, he would do it in a heartbeat. Only he knew that was virtually impossible. Besides not having the slightest clue of where in the world they were now, he also knew that all the protective spells they had cast would most likely prevent him from meeting them.

With this insisting thought in his mind yet again, Ron got up quite distraught. He got to the window through which some light was finally coming in. Snow was falling stronger on the window pane and Ron shivered even though he was not cold. He turned on the radio, sat by the window and resumed his gazing routine, knowing he had a couple of hours until Bill and Fleur came nagging him again to try and make him snap out of it. What they did not know was that Ron had solemnly swore to himself that he would not snap out of it. He would not enjoy one second of his days after what he had done to. To Harry, out of all the people. And to Hermione. Especially to Hermione. He had heard her calling after him when he had left the tent. The sound of her voice calling him was still echoing in his every minute, sunrise to sunset. However, the recall of her voice calling his name was never clearer than when he laid in bed at night, alone...

He thought of her smile. She had such a cute smile. He had always liked it – in fact, he thought there was something to it even before she had had her teeth fixed by Madam Pomfrey. Oh and how he had felt at the sight of her at the Yule Ball...

Ron had never realised it before that, but he had started to understand it in that distant night of his Fourth Year at Hogwarts. It had been both a surprise and simple, plain old news. It had always been there; he just had not quite realised it by then. Nevertheless, when he did and when he finally admitted it to himself, it was too late. Or so he had thought. Krum was in – and then out. Ron tried to keep up, change to be better for Hermione, to be what she needed, what she deserved. Only then came the stupidity that went by the name of "Won-Won phase" – and after that, the Horcruxes, the war. And he had lost any feeble chance he might have had, just by leaving.

Two stubborn tears fell from his eyes as he remembered falling asleep holding Hermione's hand at Grimmauld Place, Number Twelve. Gloomy as it might have been, Ron could not help himself but to think that some of the days in that house had been the happiest of his life, just because he was living with Hermione every single day, sharing a house with her. He would have never guessed he would be so fond of that idea. Truth was that having her by his side would make any day be the best day possible. He closed his eyes, partly to keep the tears from running, and he could almost feel the touch of her hand in his, their fingers entwined; he recalled how softly she had called him that night at Grimmauld Place once she was sure that Harry was asleep.

'Ron? Are you awake?', she had asked.

'Yeah, I am – something wrong? Are you OK?', there had been something in her voice that had startled him, that had made him feel worried.

'I – I'm having trouble falling asleep', she had whispered. He had been sure at the time that if there were enough light in the room he would have seen her cheeks become redder.

'Same here...', he had fought the urge to get up and hold her closely.

'Could – do you reckon – I mean, would you mind holding my hand until I fall asleep? I – I feel scared, I don't really –'

'Sure, I will', he knew he had probably sounded too excited. 'I'll hold your hand whenever you need, OK? Until – until you're able to sleep, that is'.

He took her hand, entwined his fingers on hers and kept rubbing her skin with his thumb to soothe her. It had been the best feeling in the world. Hermione had simply murmured 'Thanks, Ron'. She had dozed off after a while, but Ron had stayed awake for quite a while, just listening to her breathe, the sound of her voice saying his name resonating within him. 'Ron'.

'Ron'.

Ron jumped, looking around the room. That voice – _her_ voice – had not come from inside his head. But no-one was nowhere to be seen. He was alone, still.


End file.
